Second Guess Avenue

Now that my chance
lies diluted in an hour glass,
I may visit the almost street
that still yearns to be a boulevard.

Courtyards and balconies
yield to hardscrabble
alleyways and the stained glass
kiss on your rosewater lips
clots in its very own
unflowered yard.

eternity shore

when your bed
is a raft, a cave turned
inside out,
a heartbeat pressed flat,

remember me
and our most gentle ride
beyond  all known shorelines

in between lives.

fool's gold and lies

did we truly meet
in the city of gold

with mud-caked boots
and pans outstretched?
we copied the art of silt and sift

tossed feverish,
poker-faced, gin-breathed.

and once again
the Chilkoot Pass
beckons; the allure
of alchemy fools

our mineral eyes to death.

if words had wings

in flight,
balletic like a winter bird

a soldier in mildewed
issue dreams

of a Russian cigarette, a Turkish
delight in an oval box wrapped
with rose velvet string

if words had wings,
this settled coffin could be a nest,
not a box of stupefying being.

in the backwash

each room is turned
inside out, the acrobat

fails to be precise. meaning
stammers holed with doubt.

your life is pasted
with serrated postage stamps.

ghost ride

your last traces,
smoke and vapour
a smudge of regret

lingers without texture.

recycled time
and time again,
you create a slice
of space for me
during this white ride
to Elsewhere.